


The All-Star Game

by ice_hot_13



Category: Original Work
Genre: Hockey, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-01
Updated: 2012-01-01
Packaged: 2017-11-02 19:12:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/372372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ice_hot_13/pseuds/ice_hot_13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aaron missed the All-Star game.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The All-Star Game

Aaron can’t help but feel guilty about how he’s going to be late to the all-star game. It’s not his fault, really; he lost a glove and couldn’t leave until he found it under his desk. And he still has to swing by Ryan’s and pick him up, because there are things Aaron needs to play- all his gear and Ryan among them.

            When Ryan opens the door to his apartment, though, he seems surprised to see Aaron standing there. He doesn’t exactly look ready to go, either, standing there barefoot in jeans and a striped t-shirt. It’s a v-neck; Aaron kind of loves it, but whatever, no one asked him. “Dude, it’s like… eleven.”

            “Eleven fifteen.”

            “Okay, eleven fifteen,” Ryan concedes. He still looks really confused though, and Aaron’s starting to think it’s not because Ryan’s surprised he’s this late. Ryan walks back into the apartment, and Aaron follows him into the living room.

            “So… going?” he asks, because Ryan isn’t exactly looking for a jacket or anything leaving-related.

            “What?”

            “Well, don’t you wanna ride there together?”

            “Ride where?” Ryan looks puzzled, and Aaron frowns.

            “Dude, you’re coming to the allstar game, right?”

            “Oh.” Ryan crosses his arms over his chest, shrugs a shoulder. “No, got shit to do. Can’t go.”

            “But…” Aaron flounders for something to say, anything that isn’t what he’s thinking, because that’s  _but I thought you would watch me and I’d be proud of you if you were an allstar and you should’ve but I wanted you to watch,_ and there’s no way in hell he’s saying that. “I thought you’d wanna come.”

            “I can’t, though. Have reading to do and stuff,” Ryan shrugs, like this is nothing, like Aaron isn’t in fucking  _agony,_ because why doesn’t Ryan want to come with him, why doesn’t he want to spend as much time together as possible if Aaron’s  _leaving_ soon.

            “But-”

            “I can’t, man. I really can’t.”

            Aaron wants to convince him,  _somehow,_ but this is the worst part, the way Ryan’s already so decided, like Aaron could never change his mind. Maybe that isn’t the worst part; maybe it’s that Aaron never even got a chance to convince him.

            “Seriously?” Aaron snaps, and Ryan looks almost taken aback.

            “Uh… yes?”

<            “Way to be a bitch,” Aaron can’t stop himself from nearly snarling. Ryan’s eyes go wide.

            “Chill the fuck out,” he says mildly, still looks more confused than anything else.

            “Really? You’re not even coming, so yeah, I’m gonna get fucking  _upset_ about that.”

            “Uh… why?”

            “ _Because,_ asshole, you’re not coming!” Aaron snaps, and he  _sees_ the way Ryan takes a step back, bumps into the couch behind him, but keeps going, because Ryan’s not coming, and Aaron’s about to leave the goddamn country soon  _because_ Ryan doesn’t care about him like that, and the last thing he needs is  _further proof_ that Ryan really, really doesn’t feel that way. “I’m leaving soon, and you don’t fucking care! You don’t want to spend time with me or watch me play or  _anything!_ And- fucking  _why?!_ You’re my best friend, why the fuck don’t you  _care?!”_

            That does it. He can see the shift, the way Ryan goes from confused to  _enraged,_ two seconds flat, even though it’s usually all-but impossible to rile him. Aaron wants to take it all back, but he can’t, and he- he doesn’t want to. What he  _wants_ is for Ryan to care.

            “Don’t care?” Ryan says, voice flat and taut with anger. Aaron doesn’t back down, though.

            “Fucking  _obviously._ It’d be hard to care  _less_ than you do.”

            “Don’t you  _dare_ say I don’t fucking care,” Ryan snarls suddenly, and Aaron wants to step back, but he holds his ground- but he’s never heard Ryan so angry,  _never._ “If I didn’t care, I would go to the fucking game and watch you play without me and not give a fuck that it’s the last game you’ll play here!  _You’re_ the one that doesn’t care, Aaron, so don’t give me all this shit about  _me_ not caring, because  _you’re the one that’s leaving!”_   
            “I’m leaving because I  _do_ care!” Aaron yells back, and he doesn’t know when they got so loud, but he can’t stop, he just  _can’t,_ because everything is so wrong,  _so wrong,_ “I’m leaving because I can’t fucking  _take_ this anymore! I can’t stand being around you, knowing that-”     he cuts off suddenly, the rest of the words breaking in the air before he could give them voice, as his brain finally catches up to what he’s saying, because he’s not going to tell Ryan  _knowing that you’ll never love me the way I love you,_ he’s not, because Ryan  _never will,_ and Aaron won’t tel him.

            “Knowing what?” Ryan growls, like he’s expecting something terrible, and he should be, because that’s what it  _is._ The deep-seated  _anger_ in Ryan’s voice is more than Aaron can handle; he didn’t want any of this. He wanted Ryan to be at his last game, he wanted to somehow have everything go back to the way it used to be, he wants  _so many things,_ and he’s never going to have any of them.       

            “Nothing,” he manages, feels tears welling his eyes and hates himself for it. “it’s nothing. Forget it. I gotta go.” He turns to leave, because he can’t  _do_ this, can’t look at Ryan and not cry for everything he’s never going to have.

            “No,” he hears Ryan’s footsteps, and then Ryan’s grabbed his arm, “knowing what? Tell me.” Aaron just shakes his head no, biting his lip hard so he won’t cry. Ryan’s hand slides down his arm until he’s holding Aaron’s hand tight, but doesn’t seem to notice, and Aaron’s trying too hard to hold back the tears he hates himself for having. “We’re supposed to know everything about each other, that’s what best friends  _are._ And when you- when you know something I don’t, and don’t tell me, it’s like… fucking  _betrayal,”_ Ryan says, voice nearly cracking on the word, “like how long were you thinking about this France thing, and you never even mentioned it to me. And now you’re keeping something  _else_ from me, too, and I just- Aaron,  _don’t,_ ” R yan's nearly pleading, dark eyes showing the kind of pain Aaron can't handle, something he shouldn't even be  _capable_  of inflicting on his best friend. "just tell me," Ryan all-but pleads, "there can't be another thing you keep from me. "

          "But I've always kept this from you," Aaron says, and the crushed look that flickers across Ryan's face  _ruins_  him. "I'm leaving because I'm in love with you," he hears himself say, because this, doing anything he can for Ryan, it was never anything less than an instinct. "It hurts too much to see you every day and know you won't ever feel the same"

          "You don't get to run away because of that," Ryan says, an almost painful gentleness to his tone, something Aaron doesn't deserve, because he’s ruining this, ruining  _them_. 

          "Why not?" Aaron fights back tears again, as Ryan squeezes his hand, comforting him even as Aaron tears him apart. 

          "Because I'm still here," Ryan says softly, "I've been in love with you for years."

"oh," Aaron manages, can't keep up, "I-" 

          Ryan's just looking at him, a painfully hopeful, guarded look on his face. Aaron gives up on words, just leans in and kisses him. It feels like this is the way things were always supposed to be. It feels like this would have fit into every goal celebration, every post-loss comforting, every stressful exam day, every morning, every night. 

          "What about the all star game?" Ryan nearly whispers, "and- and France?" Aaron shakes his head, leans over to kiss Ryan's neck, because he's always wanted to. He would trade the Stanley Cup for the light sigh this earns him. 

          "forget em," Aaron says against Ryan's skin. 

          "Both?" his tone is so hopeful, it almost hurts, because how could Aaron have ever left him? How was that something he thought he'd be capable of doing?

          "Both," Aaron confirms. He lets Ryan lead him around the couch, nudge him back onto it.          

          "So we can just stay here," Ryan says, straddling Aaron on the couch. Aaron nods, the game all-but forgotten, because Ryan fits into his arms like this is a place designed for him. 

          "Bet it'll be a lame game anyhow." 

          "yeah?" Ryan kisses him, hungry and deep, like he's been waiting for this for so, so long. Aaron's hands find Ryan's hips, his skin soft and warm beneath his shirt. 

          "mmhmm. disorganised, they'll probably have lost the radar gun and have to find it.."

          "yeah, but." Ryan pauses, skims his hands up and down Aaron’s arms softly, “you’re an all-star, A.”

          “Doesn’t mean anything if you’re not one too,” Aaron says, and he’s not a romantic, he’s really not, but Ryan brings out everything gentle and loving in him, always has. “I wouldn’t be all-star material if I wasn’t playing with you, so really, they couldn’t pick me without picking you too.”

          Ryan leans in to kiss him again, too delighted for words, and Aaron doesn’t know how he ever thought he’d be able to live without Ryan. All he can do is be so, so glad everything happened exactly the way it did.


End file.
